


Breathing 3: Baby Steps

by sfmpco



Series: Breathing Lessons [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Parentlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-29 22:45:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3913444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sfmpco/pseuds/sfmpco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life at 221B Baker Street with Sherlock and Molly for the first few days of bonding with their new infant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathing 3: Baby Steps

Sherlock’s mother had once said to him that the heart of the father determines the sex of the child: if the heart was hard, a daughter was born. If the heart was too soft, a son. At the time he had scoffed at the idea, but now as he laid his newborn daughter in her cot in the bedroom for the first time, he wondered if she was right and if in fact his heart was still quite hard. No, not hard but hardened. He could be ruthless and cruel and some would say dangerous. Very dangerous. Hurt anyone in his private circle and a “personal vendetta” would likely follow with severe consequences to the offending party. Whereas once he had thrilled at the game of solving a murder, the game had become less interesting than apprehending the murderer and seeing justice done. Mary Watson’s words often came to his mind that “People like Magnussen should be killed. That’s why there are people like me.” He actually understood her sentiments exactly, and he had never condemned her for her words.

But was that the legacy he wanted to leave with his daughter? That personal justice was justifiable? Is that what he wanted to teach her? He lived by his own codes and standards, and sometimes that put him at odds with societal norms, Scotland Yard and even his brother.

He felt an arm go around his waist as Molly leaned against him. “She’s fed, burped and changed, and I’m going to try to get a little sleep again. How is it that the Duchess of Cambridge left hospital only ten hours after delivering Princess Charlotte looking as if she simply smiled and the baby popped out, but I feel like I’ve taken a beating?”

He grinned boyishly and pointed at their daughter. “I made that.”

“You made a little donation.” She conceded.

“Oh I think it was a little more than that.” He said. His eyes brightened. “Let’s make another one.”

“Thanks, but I’m not a factory. And no sex for at least six weeks.” She said. “And right now I need you to start some laundry and get my suitcase unpacked.”

While there were many aspects of his ability to relate to Molly in the way that he assumed other men related to their wives that he felt he was missing, he understood duty and routine perfectly and already had a list of his daily schedule and assignments regarding baby care. He also was quite expert at swaddling with almost military precision, although nappy changes with a fussy, wriggling baby provided a challenge. Part of the immediate first routine was that he was on baby duty during the afternoons so that Molly could take a decent nap. It was also his responsibility to make certain they had an evening meal. Whether he made it or ordered it in didn’t matter. This routine necessitated that he informed Lestrade that he was unavailable to help with any cases for the first two months. He just hoped something really juicy like a serial murder case didn’t come along because he didn’t know if he could resist. He was determined, however, to never hear Molly complain that he wasn’t doing his share.

He was obsessive about having her attached to him whenever he was on duty, which meant that she was either in a sling when he needed to be hands-free or that she was in his arms for a feeding or burping or soothing. He had learned the “baby dance” on the first day in hospital. He made a mental chart of her cries as he tried to identify them within the first forty-eight hours, and he talked to her constantly when she was awake: he talked to her as if she could understand him, as if she had the same genius brain he did. He wondered and hoped if she did. He was utterly obsessed with her.

She was born with curly dark hair like his and with what seemed like bluish eyes, but since Molly’s eyes were brown and brown was dominant, he expected that her eyes would be brown as they developed further in the first few weeks.

When it came to a name, they had each set down guidelines for what was unacceptable: no naming the child after fruit, months, weekdays, flowers (although they both agreed Rose could go on the acceptable names list), family or relatives living or dead, or anything that had an uncommon spelling. If, for example, they had wanted to name the child “Jane,” the spelling could not be Jayne, Jaine, Jhane or anything other than Jane. The name could also not be something that could be rhymed with a derogatory word by bullies. Also no fad names or being named after a celebrity. They wanted to keep the name simple and sweet. Sherlock did want to keep his family’s tradition of three names before the surname, and Molly was fine with that idea.

She had weighed in at 6 lbs 14 oz and was 21 inches long. The official birth record listed her name as Beatrice Maisie Bellerose Holmes, but Sherlock and Molly immediately nicknamed her Bea. They knew she might get labeled as a “busy bee” later in life, and they knew they would probably be the first to use the term, but the name was one with which they both felt comfortable.

Sherlock began reading to her on her first day home, but he refused to read what he considered insipid children’s literature. They had been gifted a lot of children’s books and he had been rather horrified at the lack of what he considered to be literary content. Instead he pulled down one of his books on the psychology of serial killers as it served two purposes: little Bea got read to and he was able to review valuable information. He let Molly read the children’s books at bedtime, and although he didn’t personally want to read them, he did find his wife’s voice gentle and soothing when she did, and he rather enjoyed that.

As soon as he could he would teach her the Periodic Table of Elements and have her looking through his microscope. In fact, he made plans to buy a microscope for her as soon as she was old enough to use it, which he estimated to be about two years old.

As she had already been introduced to music in utero, he planned to continue her musical education and get her started reading music and playing an instrument quite early on. He would also begin to speak to her in French as he felt it was important for all children to be at least bilingual, but he would add in other languages as she grew.

He loved to watch Molly nurse her. He was fascinated by it, and Beatrice was a greedy eater from the start. The breasts that he had fondled, licked and sucked during sex were now the source of complete nourishment for his daughter. He liked how they plumped up and rounded out. He even tasted some of the milk she had pumped just for an experiment and decided it wasn’t all that unpleasant although he wouldn’t repeat the experiment.

Life was now about experiencing the world entirely anew through a little life that was experiencing everything for the first time. He couldn’t wait to see her first smile, to hear her first laugh, to see her roll over, to crawl, to stand, to take her first steps.

“Slow down.” Molly insisted gently as she nursed at 0400. “She hasn’t even been home from hospital a week.”

He stroked his daughter’s head as she nursed, and the little eyes began to close in sleep. “But she’s a Holmes, and a Holmes must have constant mental stimulation. We get bored easily.”

“Yes, I know.” Molly said, and she kissed him sweetly. She put her daughter up to her shoulder and patted her back until she heard the telltale burp.

He was certain that Beatrice already responded to her name at birth as he had spoken it to her in utero many times, and just hearing it after birth would calm her with its familiarity.

And so it was that a new life settled in at 221B Baker Street with a new mother realizing her ultimate dream of being mother, the world’s only consulting detective coming to terms with a blessed reality that he had once scoffed at and never dared dream, and a little baby who simply knew complete security in the arms of her parents.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Mother's Day 2015!


End file.
